How Bad Is It? or Ham Sandwich
by Tirnel
Summary: A short tale taking place after the battle of Pellanor Fields, Aragorn tends to the wounded, including some of his men, to find his kinsman dead. With so much to do, how can he find the time to grieve? Warning: Cannon character death. (meaning a cannon character dies canonically…with liberty concerning how and what time as we are only told the "where" and in such chapter of the b


How Bad Is It?

Or

Ham Sandwich (for you fable 3 fans)

Since this is here, it can be assured I do not gain money from it or own anything but the OC's, which I would not have but for the writings of Mr. Tolkien. Strayton belongs to the creators of the Mellon Chronicles. I have taken the liberty of destroying it for this fic. Apologies for any spelling or grammar errors. I also have wiggled time a little bit concerning when Gilraen moved home to her people and taken a few liberties with a character's wishes as we are not told _specifically _certain things pertaining to him.

Summary: A short tale taking place after the battle of Pellanor Fields, Aragorn tends to the wounded, including some of his men, to find his kinsman dead. With so much to do, how can he find the time to grieve? Warning: Cannon character death. (meaning a cannon character dies canonically…with liberty concerning how and what time as we are only told the "where" and in such chapter of the book.)

Spoilers: some references to previous stories involving these OCs. References to happenings in ROTK.

Enough of my blabbering! On with the tale!

"How bad is it?"

"It could be worse."

"Do you think it will scar?"

"You have a possibly poisoned arrow sticking from your posterior that may get infected, and you are worried if it will scar."

"Seriously, what _do_ you think?"

"I think you need to act your age, Sparrow. You are ninety-five years old AND a grandfather I might add. Do I also need to mention the great-grandchild that may be born any day now? I would have thought that you had matured at least a little by now."

Sparrow sighed and stuck his chin in his hand.

"But…" continued Thrush thoughtfully. Sparrow quirked an eyebrow and looked up at his brother as he lay on his stomach in the Houses of Healing of Gondor's White City. "If it does scar, it may turn out to be an interesting one."

"I should hope not. I really hope it won't scar at all, because then I should have to explain how I got the scar and I am not looking forward to that."

"You are not thrilled to go home and tell your wife how you gloriously achieved this scar in battle when you failed to get your hind-quarters out of the way in time?" Thrush questioned with a devious smile growing on his face.

"No I am not!" Sparrow barked, restraining himself from smiling back. With all his talk of maturity, Sparrow knew the truth about his older brother and it gave him a pleasant feeling of satisfaction to know that his brother was only slightly more mature than himself.

"Have you two seen Halbarad?" The older rangers looked to see Halbarad's own brother, Halmir standing in the doorway. "I can't find him anywhere."

"No, I have not."

"I lost track of him not long after we left the ships."

Halmir smirked when he took in the sight of Sparrow, "What happened to you?"

"Simpleton stuck his butt where it did not belong, like always."

"Is it over? Did we win?"

"Yes, victory is ours this day."

"It's beautiful, is it not? The White City. More beautiful than I have imagined."

"It is beautiful. Hush now while I patch you up."

The injured man grasped the blood soaked hands of the healer's and stilled his ministrations. "You know as well as I do it's no good."

"I have to try."

"And I would not forgive you if you did not, but as talented as you are you cannot work miracles." He struggled for a breath. "It is a nice place, but I would much rather be at home, with my wife…Mother…Halmir and Hiril when-" blood gurgled in his throat and pooled in his mouth before trickling out the side. Aragorn let go of one hand and closed the man's eyes with his now free hand while gently clutching the man's other hand in his. He wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. Perhaps he was just too weary or perhaps he knew in his inner being that if he did he would break down all together and not have the strength to be able to finish what he had come into the city to do. Unable to decide which, he guessed it must be some of each and all at once. The twins watched on compassionately as Aragorn covered the face of the man that lay before him. He washed his hands in the basin of water then dried his hands he had come a little sooner, maybe he could have- he shook his head. He did not have time to linger anymore here. He needed to get to the next patient before they too were lost to this world.

"Is anyone else hungry? Personally, I could go for a ham sandwich myself. Ah! There is my favorite distant relation!" Sparrow exclaimed with exuberance. Someone who worked in the Houses of Healing had stopped by to check on the status of the occupant and had given Sparrow something to help with the pain and fight infection. Thrush and Halmir turned to see their future king enter the room followed by the sons of Elrond who carried medical supplies and water in a bowl. All were grim of face.

When Aragorn had had a few moments to examine the wound, Thrush leaned over his shoulder. "What's the verdict?" he asked not at all shaken by Aragorn's dismal attitude. He had gotten used to his kinsman's ever increasing gloominess over the years. And while it had ached his heart to see it happen, he was not at all surprised. Such was the fate of most of their kind. He was just glad that Aragorn had managed to hold on to his youthfulness longer than most, despite the burdens that lay on his shoulders.

"He is lucky it is not poisoned," his chieftain responded curtly.

"Accidents happen," chimed in Sparrow.

"This kind of accident only happens to rookies," snapped Aragorn.

"I've been retired for seven years, go easy on aaOW!" Aragorn removed the arrow without warning. "By Mîm's beard, Aragorn! I know you are a gentler healer than that! What's wrong with you?!" Silently Aragorn cleaned and stitched the wound.

"Chief?" Thrush looked concernedly at Aragorn, hoping that using the nickname he bestowed on his young leader when he had rejoined them after living in Rivendell in secret for eighteen years, though he only used it when he could be certain only friendly ears were around, would bring him around to confide in them. He could see now that something was really bothering Aragorn. Such outbursts, if they could be called such, were rare even in times of great stress. He felt like such a dolt for passing off, which now seemed so obvious, as just his regular everyday attitude. But then, Aragorn always was good at hiding his feelings.

"Halbarad's dead," his tone was flat when he finally answered.

"A-are you sure?" asked Halmir softly.

Aragorn nodded, "I just tended to his body." He had felt a knot in stomach since then and it just grew ten times in size when he had seen Halmir in the room. Normally the remaining family members would be told privately, in person if possible, but sometimes it was through a letter, as it was preferred to tell the family as soon as possible, but it was never easy. But there was so much to do and the others would have found out sooner or later, and in all reality, it was not fair to them either to wait as the four of them were all very close. So Aragorn decided it be best to tell them while they were all together and get it over with. Like setting a broken limb, he thought oddly. Quick, though the pain may be almost unbearable, then the healing process may begin.

The stitching was finished and the wound bandaged. "I'm so sorry, Halmir," his voice barely audible. He cleansed his hands and left the room without another word. The twins followed him. Elladan paused and turned around as if to say something, but must have thought better of it, because he turned around and was gone.

Sparrow felt numb inside, his appetite forgotten. It was almost hard to believe. When it is someone you do not really know, perhaps you are only barely acquainted with, you may feel a twinge of sadness, but then it is gone within a few days. Easily gotten over. But when it is a close friend, someone you have known all your life it seems. Someone you know has your back at all times, how do you react? How do you get over it? While every ranger knows every day there is a chance he may not come home that night, it is always difficult when it was someone you know and that he was good at what he did. So far, Aragorn, Halmir, Thrush, and he had been lucky so far to reach the ages they were without loss of life or crippling injuries. When Sparrow had finally 'retired', he had not actually retired. As they needed younger men out in the wild, someone is needed to protect the homes of the wives, children, the too young, and the too old. Therefore, once a ranger reaches a certain age, he is usually 'retired' and a younger ranger takes his place. Sometimes it depends on his skill sets as to whether or not they can be spared just yet. In his case and his brother's while aged, they could do the work of several inexperienced young rangers at home, while they get to use their young strength to good use elsewhere. Halbarad himself was almost to go into retirement himself when they had gotten the message that Aragorn needed their help. He only had a few more years to go, but now he would not get the chance. He will never know what it was like after spending years in the wild away from friends and family, to stay home and not have to worry as much as to whether or not you are coming home. They would all give up their lives to protect Arda, but it is certainly a nice feeling to know it is not required of you just yet.

It could be stressful and rather depressing at times, out there in the wilds, in strange villages, often alone, always having to look over your shoulder. Being hated and feared. The very people you are sworn to protect, suspicious and set it their minds that you are up to no good. You do not dare tell them the truth for it is better if they know not the truth of what is _really_ out there to be scared of. If you did tell them, would they believe you? Probably not. Sparrow and Thrush were more popular with the suspicious folks than others were. They were more open and laughed more and to some, rather immature. Sparrow, fifteen years old and out in the world for the first time. He had his brother with him and they were to patrol the areas around Strayton, a small village near Rivendell, no longer there, and Pine Hill, also destroyed by the wildfire that had caught two summers ago when there was a serious drought. The surviving inhabitants had moved on to Bree and Combe for the time being. His sometimes-borderline insubordinate tomfoolery could not help him cope this time.

"I had just about given you up for dead," He stood there grinning at Aragorn with his hands on his hips as was his manner when he was pleased about something. He smiled back at his cousin as he embraced him. It was good to see a friendly face and he was going to enjoy getting reacquainted with him because this friendly face was not as familiar to him as it once had been. He had finally grown out of the remaining gangliness of childhood that had been lingering when Aragorn had left for Rohan and Gondor. A month old wound decorated his brow. If treated properly, the scar would be minor. Aragorn sighed in happiness, for was going to be nice being myself again.

"So how was Gondor?" asked Halbarad as he led Aragorn to his campsite with an arm around his shoulders. An unseasoned rabbit sat roasting on a spit over a small campfire. Halbarad never was one for frills, cooking or otherwise. Of course, one rarely, if ever, could be fancy in the wilds, but with the right herbs and spices…

"I am so glad you are back. So is everyone else. Ceven can't wait to turn leadership back over to you."

"Ceven? Dírhael has always…" Aragorn was confused. His mother's father had been running things since his father died. Halbarad's face withdrew in surprise and realization when he remembered Aragorn had been away and had not known. He stated as such before telling him that my grandfather had passed the year before. He told him his grandfather had been laid up with an injury and had caught the influenza which was really bad that year. The influenza turned into pneumonia. Mother moved back when the news had reached her that he father was gravely ill. They sat there quietly for a moment, Halbarad fiddled with a stick as Aragorn stared into the fire. Then he uttered a small laugh and glanced at Aragorn sheepishly.

"I wanted to write and tell you, but I just could not find the words. You're not going to believe this. Uhh…" He rubbed the back of his neck and refused to make eye contact.

"What priceless artifact did you break?"

"I am shocked that you would think that," he answered with a mock indignation. "But, well, I guess there is no other way but to just say it…."

"Your rabbit is burning..."

"What? OH!" He snatched the rabbit off the fire and held it up. The poor scrawny thing, what little meat was on it was now a black hunk of coal. After a few tentative bites, he gave up trying to salvage it. He sat down and tossed it aside dejectedly.

"Sorry about your dinner."

"Nah, you saw it, it wasn't much of a meal anyways." Aragorn reached into his bag. Pulling out some dried meat; he divided and tossed some over to his cousin. "I got married."

Aragorn choked on his meat, "You what?!"

"About 3 years ago."

"You? You who swore you would never marry because you did not want to be chained down to a woman for the rest of your life because you thought you would lose your independence."

"That was when I was young and stupid," Halbarad stated with a wave of his hand.

"How did you get the injury to your head?"

"Aha!" He stood up and acted out a battle scene as he spoke, "You should have been there. We were surrounded; three to one, but they were no match for us. Your brothers came at them from this angle, while Barhend and I turned our swords like this...what is that look for?"

"What really happened?'

"I fell off my horse."

"Green leaf*," snorted Aragorn.

Halbarad shrugged, "I've never been much of a rider, and you know that."

Aragorn awoke early that morning after laboring long into the night and only stopping shortly before dawn. With as little as he slept he was surprised he had dreamed at all. And why that memory? To deepen his sorrow with the remembrance of a lost friend and happier times? But no, Halbarad knew the risks, he had always known the risks and always willing to ride out and meet them. "Did you not say dear cousin that your death laid beyond that evil door?" Perhaps after this war there would be time to grieve for the lost. So many loved ones had already been lost and may chance he could end this war before more loved ones are lost. He will call the captains at once and hold a council to decide what must be done.

_I Met_

*Green leaf: Here meaning rookie as in green horn. And of course an alludation to Mr. Legolas. And no, alludation is not a word, but it sounded cool.

I Met: The End

(sorry it wasn't as long as the last one guys, it just didn't work out that way, but I have more stories on the burners simmering away, just hope I don't burn them :D. also thinking of rebooting Lost Hope for a rewrite. You know fix some pipes, make the ending less of a cop out)


End file.
